LIMBO: 38 Weeks, 2 Days

(getting my “limbo,” er…yoga on)

Don’t like the game, don’t like name…

It’s not that I am totally impatient.  Or that I can’t wait for a good thing, it’s just there is this very specific place between what you know is inevitable and the inevitable.  Like, “waiting” to go into labor, perhaps.  Limbo isn’t like other types of waiting;  like maybe a move where you can spend a few weeks packing up boxes, getting your new space ready, painting, cleaning (yes, all of this is part of nesting, but stay with me here) and transitioning.  In the last few weeks of pregnancy, you can literally have a baby any day.  It’s only predictable to a certain extent.  With pretty much everything else in my neat little life (I gladly accept labels of OCD or ADD) there is an element of predictability.  I’ve really come a long way in terms of being adaptable – just don’t ask anyone in my family, or close friends – but there’s a reason I wear black and not grey.

During my in between days, I’ve been savoring the time with my son; playing as much as my tweedle dee shaped body will allow me to.  Lots of painting and crafting as well as a short scooter ride last week – do that at 37 weeks pregnant if you want to see some rubber neckers – and cuddles, bedtime stories, hugs, extra songs at bedtime, even a spontaneous trip to Mickey D’s for breakfast.  I know my moments as a mother of one are fleeting and that there is indeed just a short time before we add a fourth member to our little trio and so I enjoy what we have right now, on this day, in this moment.  Soaking in the stillness of the present.

You see, I am an existentialist to the core.  Meaning that I love the theory…putting it into practice is hit or miss.  Genetically I am pretty much black and white, right or wrong, paper or plastic…spiritually, I am totally in the moment, know that every season has a purpose, each day has it’s own special plan and that God likes to stir things up so just go with it.  It’s a weird combination.  One that I wish would just integrate already.  Limbo should be easy for an existentialist.  This whole spiritual, emotional and physical bending should be right up my alley.  But limbo for a genetically uptight, organized, anxious existentialist – not so much.  So my spirit says “let go” and my sinew says “not a chance.”  Believe me I am capable of some serious mental gymnastics which is why I feel like giving way to my more relaxed spiritual being feels like a vacation.  My spiritual self would actually join a congo line OR play limbo at some crazy lei donning, grass skirt wearing (coconut bra – not a chance), suckling pig eating luau. 

It won’t be long now, the inevitable is certainly coming 🙂

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Categories: All The Rest

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